


An Almighty Thud :: Part 1.5

by patria_mori



Series: Unicorn [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patria_mori/pseuds/patria_mori
Summary: After a suspicious death at his father's estate, Arthur never expected he would find himself caught up in a world where magic was commonplace and a shadow organization named 'Unicorn' wanted him dead. The more allies he finds, and the more he finds out about his own father's dark past, the more Arthur comes to realise there is more to it all than running a business empire.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Unicorn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/54765
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	An Almighty Thud :: Part 1.5

**Author's Note:**

> This is an update to the story that I wrote as part of a Big Bang a long while back that grew beyond what I was able to write in the time frame allotted. I don't know that I feel what follows counts as a story in its own right - there is a lot that extends beyond these words that I can't tie in, but it's been nagging at me since I first posted that the story had to end at a dubious point. So this finishes that off a bit more. I don't know if I'll be writing more. I write slowly, don't like being on a computer for long stretches and am easily distracted, so who knows. 
> 
> Thanks to devilisheggs for poking me during a time I don't have many excuses not to post something. Hopefully this is satisfying enough for your request - if I wrote in a structured way, I'd have an end game to share with you, but...I don't. Sorry. :D

**::**

When Morgana Vivianne was young, her mother had left her. She had been too young at the time to understand what that had meant, just that she and her father were alone in the world, and there was no longer someone to brush her hair at night or right her dress before company arrived. 

It was not long after that she had lost her father as well – an orphan by the age of eight.

A man her father knew, remembered by Morgana only in glimpses of dark suits around her home with brusque hands and eyes like steel, had come to fetch her from the room she had been taken to. He brought her home with him, and that was that.

He said his name was Uther Pendragon and that he had been a friend of her father’s. He said that she was going to live with him now; that he would see to her education and she would never need worry about her future again. That she would be introduced to the strange creature making the terrifying squalling sound in the distance later. That she would find her new accommodations satisfactory.

She had taken it all in silently, with wide eyes and a tight grip on her skirts. _Crying_ was something that had never crossed her mind.

As she had grown, her classmates had chattered about families and siblings and generally assumed Mr Pendragon to be her father. When she had grown tired of questions about the mother that had abandoned her - and explaining that no, the little blond boy who trailed after her wasn’t her real brother, he was a little piggy who could walk - Morgana had found a solution. She told them that her mother had died.

She had asked Uther once, where her mother had disappeared to. The tiny blond shadow had gripped at her sleeve, standing on chubby little legs as they stood before the monolithic desk in Uther’s study. He had glanced at her, his eyes taking in a hundred details about her that Morgana had never thought to perfect before that moment - details which might have made for a more persuasive argument on her behalf, if only she knew what they were in advance. All she had learned was that her mother had been called Dr. Vivianne, and that she wasn’t to ask again.

To Morgana, her mother really _had_ died in a vague ether world, and over the years she constructed one story after another as it suited her fancy. Her mother had died in far off Africa, protecting elephants from poachers, she told the girl with braids in her riding classes. Her mother died during a terribly important show jumping event that would have qualified her for the Olympic team, she primly told the boy who told her riding classes were for sissies. Her mother was a fabulous Canadian actress, with shiny hair and perfect posture and a smile that struck men blind, she told someone who said ‘don’t you look pretty’. That mother died during a filming stunt mishap that left British Columbia in mourning for years.

She knew that Arthur had heard some of the tales over the years – it was impossible that none of them got back to him, and she had been present when one person or another had told him how brave she must have been, learning her mother had drowned at sea at such a young age. He had done nothing more than shoot her a raised eyebrow and agree that Morgana was indeed an example to them all. She had loved him a little bit more for it, though she never let it show. He understood. 

He had never joined her though. She supposed it was because he knew for certain that his mother was well and truly dead – after all, he had killed her. Even during the early years when she would be favoured with extra servings of dessert and lenient teachers, never once had Arthur broken her game and never once had he tried to garner the attention for himself. He was an absolute twat about nearly everything else, of course, which rather made up the difference anyhow.

They had always been siblings in everything but blood back then. When she had first started to suspect, when she went digging and pushing – Morgana hadn’t been the least surprised to learn the truth.

That didn’t mean she took it any easier.

**::**

Not pain, but dizzying nausea had Morgana catching the edge of her desk in a white-knuckled grip. They were getting worse; in their frequency and strength, her visions were like waking nightmares that plagued her throughout the day.

Whatever Merlin had done to trap her in her office– done without even uttering a word, and certainly nothing Morgana had ever seen before – would take some time to unravel. She knew that he would head directly to her brother. She hoped it would be enough. The problem became anticipating what he would do next. Whatever his decision was, it had shifted the future – enough that Morgana no longer knew with any clarity the path ahead. He was the catalyst that had started something larger than all of them.

Morgana knew that when confronted with a threat to something held dear, the first instinct of someone who felt deeply was to take it and run – run as far from danger as possible to do. She had no doubt that Merlin was a runner. But Arthur…Arthur was more difficult to predict. He was noble to a fault. If Merlin pushed the wrong buttons, the stubborn donkey might dig in his heels to fight a losing battle. And if Arthur _knew_ he was standing to fight, Arthur would do everything in his power to send everyone _else_ as far from the battlefield as he could - and that included everyone that could keep him alive.

Gwen. Gwen might be of assistance in that – she at least knew enough of the stakes they all faced. Morgana was of the mood to hurl something across the room, but it was hardly the time to vent her frustrations. There would be time enough for that when she next had Merlin before her. 

He would run to his mentor first, Morgana decided. It wasn’t far enough. The old man had been on the radar for far longer than Arthur, and in the eyes of Nimueh Priest, had nearly as many sins at his feet as Uther Pendragon.

She could work at undoing the harm that had already been caused. Morgana had her suspicions as to their root, but if she was wrong it could destroy everything she had built over the last few years. No, all that was left was damage control until she knew for certain. Morgana’s nails rapped out an irritated staccato against her desk.

Wherever Merlin tried to hide her brother, it couldn’t be with Gaius Whiteman. 

Morgana picked up her mobile.

“Alator, there’s something I need you to do.”

**::**

There was heavy traffic in Marylebone, and a good few blocks from Arthur’s home Merlin’s cab encountered the snarl of cars backed up around a bus that had broken down while pulling away from the curb.

“How much?” Merlin said, his foot bouncing impatiently as he peered through the cab’s windows. “I’ll get out here.” He took the pavement at a mad dash, his heart in his throat as his mind grasped at tatters trying to pull together a plan that extended further than just finding Arthur. _Find Arthur_.

Arthur’s home was in a line of white-faced townhouses down one of the numerous side streets that made up St. John’s Wood. Merlin was trying to count in his head how many identical steps and doors he would have to pass before Arthur’s as he rounded the corner onto Arthur’s street. 

Confident he remembered where his frantic flight was taking him, Merlin looked up. 

And immediately saw something that made him pull up short. 

He crashed into one of the trees that sparsely lined the street and turned the arrested motion into a pivot that had him crouched between the cars that sat parked by the curb. He was breathing hard, but he closed his eyes tightly and focused on evening himself out. Getting himself killed wasn’t exactly the brightest plan if he wanted to keep Arthur alive.

Someone was lurking outside Arthur’s home. 

Merlin would be the first to admit that seeing someone on the streets of London wouldn’t usually warrant much more than a cursory acknowledgement - but in that brief glimpse, Merlin had no doubt that the glint off a gun in the bright light of the streetlamp left little room for interpretation as to the man’s intentions for the night. They weren’t far from where he thought the Pendragon residence was. 

He knew he had three options – two really, since he had no intention of walking away and letting fate fall as it may. He could call Arthur, and then the police, and wait it out. Which really only meant letting Arthur know that Merlin was frightened and still risked that backup would arrive too late. Arthur already knew to be careful. Merlin hoped. He took one last deep breath and made up his mind.

There was a small trick he’d learned when he was younger. True, he’d mainly used it to sneak past teachers when he was running late, or when he wanted to avoid confrontations with the footie boys, but he’d never been caught out, so it had to be at least mildly effective. He pressed a hand against his chest and tried to remember the right flare of magic that indicated what he’d wanted. It wouldn’t hide him entirely – not if someone were to look directly at him. At most, it bent the light a little and made most people pass over him at first glance.

As he crept further down the street, he dearly hoped he’d got it right. Magic had always been more instinct than training for him – Gaius had been trying to teach him a little here and there, but actually harnessing the power to direct it rather than letting it express itself had always been a bit trickier. Merlin kept to the sides of the pavement just to be careful.

It wasn’t a nameless hitman, sent by a shadow organization - it was Arthur’s uncle that stood a little ways away from Arthur’s home.

Agravaine wasn’t a fighter, Merlin thought dimly. From the few times he had met the man, Agravaine had always seemed to be more of the sort to manipulate others into action…and he was Arthur’s _uncle_ – Merlin couldn’t believe that the man could seriously be considering murdering his own blood. But he had a gun in hand now, and his face looked anything but passive in the cool night air.

Merlin knew without much effort that it was a rather vain hope to think that perhaps Agravaine was there to help protect Arthur.

“What were you planning on doing?” Merlin asked abruptly, his voice stopping the man mid-turn towards the short set of stairs that led up to Arthur’s door. He didn’t entirely have a plan as he dropped his cover and stepped to the edge of the road across from Agravaine. Mostly, it was try to talk Agravaine out of doing anything, though Merlin wasn’t sure how he meant to go about doing that. Maybe a bit of it was to determine a way to incapacitate the man long enough to get Arthur away to safety. He _should_ have called Arthur, Merlin realised belatedly – told him to get a bag packed and be ready to run. At least then if this went pear-shaped, Arthur would have some forewarning. 

Merlin had never been the best of planners.

Part of it, he knew, was because he wanted Agravaine to prove his dark suspicions wrong.

Agravaine, if he was startled, hardly showed it. The hand holding the gun shifted with a fluid motion behind his dark tailored coat as though there was nothing strange about a man holding a gun on the street of a sleepy London suburb. Or perhaps Agravaine thought Merlin hadn’t quite seen the tell-tale barrel in the streetlamp, and if it was out of sight, he might doubt what he had seen. “I beg your pardon?”

“You got the same message Morgana did.” Merlin said bluntly. He needed to focus, needed to keep his mind here in the street and not skittering away twenty yards to where Arthur was hopefully oblivious to the drama happening outside his window. Merlin kept his hands loose at his sides, his eyes sharp on Agravaine’s in case he needed to react. 

Agravaine squinted across the street at Merlin, making a show of it. “You’re that nurse boy, Emrys. Whatever are you on about? I should have you reported to the authorities, lurking about my nephew’s home in the middle of the night.”

“Unicorn has called open season on Pendragons,” Merlin watched the frown deepen a fraction across the older man’s face. He hadn’t thought anyone would have responded quite so quickly to such a call – it had been less than an hour since Merlin had stood facing off against Morgana and here was Agravaine ready to execute a good man, his nephew, all from a few lines of text like a mindless drone. _Agravaine has lived a small and petty life since Uther stripped him of his family,_ Morgana had said. Merlin knew she hadn’t been lying. And then Arthur had cut Agravaine free from Camelot, the only thing he had left. A sudden suspicion struck him. “Or was it you that made that call?”

“Very good,” Agravaine nodded in something that may have been approval. His arm dropped to his side, all pretence of hiding his weapon gone. “You’re not as daft as you seem. Quite the brain between those…considerable ears, and you’ve been Arthur’s confidante for some time now. Perhaps it was _you_ that stirred the pot, as it were. What angle are you playing, boy?”

“Not everyone has an angle,” Merlin said.

Agravaine let out a chuckle. “Whoever taught you that did you a grave disservice. Still, you’re wasting my time.”

Merlin raised his chin as he found himself facing down the dark silencer of a handgun pointed at his heart from ten paces. He didn’t know if he was fast enough against a bullet – he’d never been given reason to _try_ raising a shield against a firearm before, and his magic had never seen combat. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this confrontation through very well. He was in it now, though.

“I doubt very much that London would miss another Welsh call boy,” Agravaine said. He had finally dropped whatever refined veneer he had decided to adopt. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, boy, but you should have gone home when the tyrant died.”

“You hated Uther so much that you’re willing to kill your sister’s son just to kill his,” Merlin tried. A passing car would be nice right about now, Merlin found himself thinking, but Arthur’s road wasn’t a high traffic zone, and it didn’t get many casual visitors even in the daylight. It seemed like he just couldn’t catch a break. “Arthur is a good man. I would be careful, if I were you. It’s not too late to walk away.”

“You don’t seem to understand your situation very well,” Agravaine said, his arm level with the street. “But you might be useful, given what you know. You’re going to tell me something before you die.”

“Sorry, mate,” Merlin let his hands raise slightly in a disarming shrug. He hoped it came off more confident than he felt – at the very least, less pants-ruining terrified of facing his own death than he currently felt. He didn’t know much about guns, but he was fairly sure Agravaine had disarmed the safety on his weapon as he’d raised it, and Merlin had started running through his options in rapid-fire succession. “I’m not incline to tell you anything if you’re just going to off me anyhow.”

“Pity. If you told me where that old physician was hiding the Dragonlord, the next part would be much easier on him.” There was a twist to Agravaine’s mouth that might have been a smirk, but Merlin was focused entirely on the finger tightening about the trigger. “I’ll tell Arthur you’ll be waiting for him.”

Merlin’s hands were raised, palms flat before him and eyes screwed shut, the moment a gunshot cracked through the air. He pried open an eye, slowly straightening from his stance as he tried to come to terms with what had happened. Agravaine had a silencer, his gun wouldn’t have…

Agravaine lay sprawled against the curb, one hand clutching at a blossom of red quickly staining the skin of his hands from where he gripped at the dark fabric. His gun lay at the foot of Arthur’s stairs where it had fallen. Merlin looked in horror at his own hands before a thought struck him.

He had only raised a shield.

Someone _else_ had fired a gun.

Merlin turned slowly, one hand raising cautiously as he caught sight of the figure standing down the road.

Gwen.

Her hand wavered and she lowered the weapon. Merlin let out a gust of air, his hands sinking. “Merlin,” Gwen said weakly. “He was going to shoot you.” Merlin wanted to run to her, but he closed his eyes and turned back to Agravaine, steeling his nerve for what he knew he had to do. They didn’t have much time now. 

It wasn’t so great a distance to walk for Merlin to find himself standing over Agravaine, and Agravaine watched him approach with none of the fear of a man who could see his own end. Merlin felt numb.

“I’m sure Uther is waiting for you,” Merlin said with a coldness he’d never felt before. “Tell him his son is protected.”

There was something more than pain in Agravaine’s eyes as he looked up at Merlin. The man smiled at Merlin as Merlin raised his hand for the third time that night. “It was you,” Agravaine said. “You have magic.”

“Yes.” Merlin could feel it building under his skin and behind his eyes, snapping and pushing to be released.

“He will never be safe,” Agravaine said. “No matter the blood on your hands.”

“ _Gewitan metodsceaft sé_ on,” Merlin said, the words spilling from his mouth without conscious thought. Agravaine rocked as if struck by a great force and lay still. 

Merlin felt ill. He glanced back at where Gwen still stood rooted in place. “You have to get inside,” he said with a voice that felt detached from the rest of him. “Someone will have heard the shot, and the police respond quickly in neighbourhoods like this. Tell Arthur we need to go.”

“…we can’t leave him here,” Gwen said. Merlin could see her building up her defences, trying to work through what needed to be done with a professional eye neither of them possessed. She wasn’t running from him yet, which he counted a good sign – though they shared a burden now neither of them could set aside. “I don’t –“

“I’ll deal with it. We don’t have time to debate this,” Merlin said firmly, pressing a hand against her arm and pushing her towards the Pendragon townhouse. She pushed back a moment before she met Merlin’s eye and he gave her a short nod.

**::**

“You can’t go out there,” Mithian said with a finality that set Arthur’s jaw. “I don’t care what you think right now, Arthur. You call the police, and you wait indoors until whoever is firing a bloody gun on London streets is apprehended.”

She was blocking Arthur’s path to the front door, and Arthur was seriously weighing the choice to throw her over his shoulder and take her with him if she didn’t move. “That was right outside,” he growled.

“You don’t know what it meant, and sound echoes with buildings this close,” Mithian argued. She looked like she was weighing an option as well, and Arthur hoped her conclusion would be to back down. He needed her as a lawyer, but at the moment, he wasn’t above using his strength to his advantage. 

They broke off their match of wills, eyes shooting to the door at the sounds of fierce pounding against the wood.

“Arthur?” came a muffled voice followed by three more strikes. Arthur pushed past Mithian and wrenched open the door. Gwen barrelled into the front hall. She caught herself on Arthur as she stumbled, her hands catching up in Arthur’s shirt and Arthur supporting her arm, his other hand around her waist. He pulled her into an embrace so tight he had to relax it almost immediately for fear of crushing her, but it wasn’t by much.

“What happened, Gwen?” Mithian asked. Arthur was grateful for the woman, because his words had disappeared off somewhere the moment he had set eyes on his wife.

Gwen’s grip tightened in a brief squeeze and she was pushing herself away with a determined look settling on her face. “Arthur, we need to go. Mithian, I need to speak with you.” Arthur caught at Gwen’s arm but she shook her head. “Please, Arthur. Get your things.”

“Merlin’s on his way here –“ Arthur said. He had never seen this Gwen before, Arthur realised with a fear creeping through his veins. Something had happened, she had seen it, and his own damn wife wasn’t telling him anything. Not his wife…his…Gwen. Gwen told him everything. And Merlin had told him to stay put - not that he was taking _orders_ from Merlin, but in this they were rather in agreement. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Merlin’s _here!”_ Gwen shouted in what Arthur suspected was frustration. She looked startled at herself before regaining her strange composure. For the briefest moment, Arthur wondered if it hadn’t been a bit of fear that had streaked her words, but the voice that emerged was level and brokered no arguments. “Merlin’s here, he’s safe. He’ll will join us when he can. Get your things. We are leaving. Mithian – a word.”

Arthur didn’t know what to think, standing baffled as he watched Gwen disappear with a frown. Gwen had never yelled at him before. She’d also never ordered him around – most of her will was exerted through reasonable discourse that somehow tricked Arthur into agreeing. He had no shame admitting that, it was a fact, plain and simple. Arthur cast a glance around at the mess of paperwork across his living room, at the closed door to the study at the back of the house where Gwen had marched Mithian, and back at the front door. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. He slammed the heel of his hand against the wall in frustration and stormed upstairs to gather what he could. Arthur trusted Gwen. If she said Merlin was safe, then he was, and if she wanted him to go with her, he would.

There was the sound of sirens in the distance, moving closer as he packed.

When Arthur jogged down the stairs with a duffel and his briefcase, Merlin and Gwen were standing in the entrance hall. Merlin had himself pressed against the door, peering out the window down the street, the flickering blue of patrol cars parked further down the lane reflected off his skin, and Gwen with her mobile clutched in one hand. Mithian was methodically cleaning up their paperwork with a calm that belied the unease that seemed to radiate from the others. He wanted to gather Merlin up to assure himself Merlin was in one piece, but he was still frustrated and getting more than a little bit angry at being left in the dark so he held back, jerking open the closet and heeling on his shoes.

There was palpable relief on Merlin’s face when their eyes met, and while Arthur knew exactly what that felt like, he wasn’t letting Merlin off so easily for the anxiety of the past hour. 

“You two have a great deal to explain,” Arthur said tersely.

“Lance can meet us at Lord’s,” Gwen said, which certainly wasn’t an answer or at all what he wanted to hear. “I think…” she shot a glance at Merlin who only frowned back and she trailed off.

“What did you do, Merlin?” Arthur levelled a hard stare at Merlin. The man had taken two rushed steps towards Arthur before he had faltered at Arthur’s look and pulled up short.

“Arthur –“

 _Why did I get a call from you that sounded like ‘goodbye’?_ Arthur wanted to shout at the man, but he didn’t, and he certainly didn’t want to have it out with Merlin in front of Gwen and Mithian, regardless of how emotionally strung out he was over everything in his life. Whatever this was wasn’t something he needed right now. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “The truth, Merlin. What were you so afraid of?”

“Arthur, you trust me, don’t you?”

Arthur levelled an unimpressed stare at Merlin. _This is me trusting you, Merlin,_ Arthur thought _. Someone fired a fucking gun outside our home and neither of you are willing to ease my mind enough to tell me what the fuck is going on. But for some_ unfathomable _reason, I’m still trusting you._ There was yet another knock on the door and Arthur held Merlin’s eyes. Merlin didn’t look away, but he did look distinctly pained when Arthur moved to see who was calling. “Be careful, Arthur,” Merlin said in a quiet rush. “Please. They’ve sent people after you.”

In Arthur’s hesitation at Merlin’s words, the surprise and his inability to fathom what Merlin had just said, Gwen managed to slip by him and got to the door first. There was a moment of panic as what Merlin had said registered and Gwen’s hand touched the door handle - Arthur’s only thought process was to put himself between Gwen and whatever danger lurked just outside, his own safety be damned. She was too fast for him though, and had the door open before he could pull her away. In the end, he was pressed against her side, one arm around her waist ready to pull her from harm’s way, when the door opened to DCI Pellinore’s dark face.

“Mr. Pendragon,” Pellinore said. “Mrs. Pendragon. Ah…Miss.”

“Gwen is fine.”

Arthur pulled at the back of Gwen’s shirt, directing her away from his side as casually as he could. From the corner of his eye he could see that Merlin had raised a hand, and Arthur really didn’t want to know just what Merlin thought he was going to do. “Detective Inspector Pellinore,” Arthur said for the benefit of all his overreacting companions. “Come in.”

“My apologies, Gwen, Arthur. I have to be brief,” Pellinore said as he stepped into the house, taking in Merlin and Mithian who had come to stand with him in the entrance with a nod. “A number of homes on this street and those joining reported a gunshot being heard.”

“I was wondering what that was I heard,” Arthur said. He turned to Mithian with a soft shrug. “We had been watching the news – too many guns in the world altogether, if you ask me. No one was hurt, I hope?” At the very least, Pellinore was a blessing with regards to uncovering just what might be happening without worry of bias. There had to be a casualty, or else Pellinore had some sort of suspicion to have arrived in person rather than merely letting the uniformed officers follow up on the calls.

“Did any of you notice anything strange before or after the shot?” Pellinore inquired.

“The curtains were drawn,” Gwen said, and Arthur kept his face impassive as she spoke. “Please tell me this isn’t another of those horrid events on the news – not in this part of London.” Gwen hadn’t gravitated far from Arthur at all and she wrapped her arms around one of Arthur’s as though to say he wasn’t going to get rid of her quite so easily. She had a bad habit of doing that, Arthur remembered.

Pellinore nodded as though that was exactly what he expected to hear from them. “Half the houses on this street aren’t responding, and the few that are either saw nothing, don’t speak the Queen’s English or were too frightened to look out their doors.” Pellinore eyed Merlin and Mithian again.

“They’re fine,” Arthur said. “You know Merlin Emrys, and Mithian Nemeth is standing for my legal counsel in certain matters.”

The Inspector didn’t look entirely comfortable with having so many ears in the room, but Arthur waited expectantly until Pellinore shifted and said, “Given what we’ve spoken about, concerning… _certain matters_ , such an occurrence happening in your neighbourhood - perhaps even your street – suggests more than coincidence.”

“No one here’s shot anyone, Pel,” Arthur said, just to be clear. “You’re free to check the premise – I don’t own a hunting rifle, let alone a pistol.” Gwen felt surprisingly tense at his side, but he supposed it was understandable, given the fright he presumed she’d been through. He was going to sit them all down and demand answers as soon as he reasonably could.

“You know I’m not suggesting that any of you have,” Pellinore returned. “Officers are searching the surrounding area now, but nothing has turned up to substantiate proof that anything’s happened. The whole damn world’s on high alert right now, so don’t be surprised by increased presence in the neighbourhood over the coming weeks. We’ll be by in the daylight to further assess the area. In light of recent events, I believe, as there is significant risk towards your family, that it would be prudent to take further precautions at this time.”

“Are you offering police protection?” Arthur asked. He already knew the answer – if that was Pellinore’s intent, the man would come out and say it. The City wouldn’t put a detail on him without justifiable cause, and without proof of any direct threat against Arthur, justifiable cause was a mire of unsubstantiated hunches. Additionally, any noticeable detail hanging around Arthur’s home would strike up a media storm that would unearth a hundred things Arthur knew were best left in the shadows – though once Morgana’s lawsuit became part of the public sphere, all that was likely to happen anyhow.

“I think at this time taking a step back might be in your best interest. Get out of the City for a time.”

And there was the rub. As Gwen and Merlin had been suggesting, Pellinore was echoing the idea that he run away and hide. Lately, Arthur felt that all he had been doing was hiding from his problems, and now that he had finally stood up to face them and become a target, everyone around Arthur wanted to pull him back down into the trenches while others fought his battles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur said. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room shift to look at him, and he heard the beginnings of argument stirring from all quarters, but he had had enough. “I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated firmly. “If you haven’t noticed, my sister is in the midst of waging war against my company, and I will not abandon this fight simply because it is dangerous. We are aware of the risks now on the field, and as such we can take every precaution to mitigate them, but I will not turn tail and run. I will not hide.”

“ _Arthur_ –” Merlin snapped before Arthur shot him a glare.

“At the very least,” Pellinore said with a resigned sigh. “I suggest a private security detail.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Arthur replied. He ignored the fingers digging into his arm, even as Gwen said, “We’ll talk to him, Pell.” Uther had had a security detail, and Arthur trusted Leon with his life, but even that hadn’t been enough to save his father - or Owain. Arthur had enough of a body count already without asking other men to be his shield. Pellinore nodded, first to Gwen and then to the rest of them before he let himself out. The moment the door had closed behind him, Gwen punched Arthur hard in the shoulder and Merlin rounded on him.

“I am not watching you die, you arrogant, pig-headed –” Arthur held up the hand that hadn’t caught at Gwen’s wrist as it pulled back for another swing, his finger pointed at Merlin’s nose warningly. Merlin glared at him for a split second before he knocked Arthur’s hand away in irritation.

“You’ll never get through to him like this,” Gwen said, pulling away from Arthur’s grip with a sharp yank and dusting off her coat with precise sweeps. “Mithian, I know you can handle things on your end. Thank you.” Mithian gave Gwen a brief hug and slipped past Arthur as though he wasn’t even there – and _really_ , Arthur had had just about enough of all of this. “Arthur, _you are right_.”

Arthur blinked with dumbfounded surprise.

 _There_ , Arthur thought. Merlin looked ready to explode again, but Arthur knew Gwen would understand his way of things. He and Gwen had a friendship that would take years still to build with Merlin, even if it did sometimes feel like he and Merlin shared something deeper. Of _course_ Gwen would take his side. He would convince Merlin around to see his point of view yet – the two of them were still just trying to see how they fit together. At the moment, Merlin was just running on fear and adrenaline – he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Arthur,” Gwen said reasonably and gestured to the back of the house. “Would you mind putting a kettle on? And then you and I and Merlin can all sit down and address everything in a civilised manner.”

“I expect the full story, Merlin,” Arthur said firmly as he stalked away to make tea. He knew that Gwen would sort Merlin out. She always had been the most sensible person he knew.

**::**

“It’s fine,” Merlin had whispered when Gwen let him into Arthur’s home.

He wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but he’d done the best that he could, given that he had never expected to be required to deal with hiding a body in the middle of London on a weeknight – much less, having to do it in only a handful of minutes. If he was smarter, he’d probably have thought of some sort of spell or magic weave that might have burnt hot and fast, reducing Agravaine’s body to a fine ash where it lay. 

But he didn’t know that sort of spell. The fact that anyone _would_ frankly made the already queasy ball of Merlin’s stomach tighten that much more as he tamped down his anxiety. He didn’t want to know how to dispose of bodies with the snap of his fingers. What he did know how to do on short notice was ask the earth to hide his mistakes. It wasn’t the most effective thing he could have done, and the last time he’d tried to hide his broken bicycle that way, his mother had made him dig it back up when she came across the handlebar sticking up in her back garden. He fervently hoped no one would find Agravaine’s hand half stuck in the paving stones next week. As it was, he knew there was still a faint depression in the road that he didn’t know how to smooth out by the time the sirens had drawn near enough that he’d had to abandon his efforts and make for the house. If the police dug there, he knew they’d find him.

Merlin hoped there were no roadworks planned for the summer.

“What are you doing, Gwen?” Merlin hissed the moment Arthur had disappeared. The sound of a tin slamming down against the counter and water hitting the sink drifted down the hall. Everything considered, Gwen was coping far better than Merlin had ever expected – perhaps even better than Merlin was himself. He still felt a bit like Pellinore was going to come back with half the force at his back and watch Merlin’s nerves shake him to pieces. He had internalised everything in the hopes that they could sort this through before he needed to face anything, but he knew at some point it would all hit home - and beyond that, there was a strange feeling growing under his skin, wrapping itself around bones that he couldn't quite ignore. 

Gwen grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him so that their backs were to the kitchen. “He’s got his mind made up, Merlin. At this rate, he’ll not be shifted if the army shows up and orders him off while he stares down a tank.”

“Look, Morgana got a bloody hit order for him that who knows how many others got. Even she looked rattled. They’re coming for him, even Agra – even _he_ said so, and they are coming with more than just guns. You _saw_ …” Merlin said, the blue lights of the police vehicles outside lit up their faces in splashes of colour. He had killed a man. He had…Merlin forced it back. “I didn't need a gun, Gwen. I’m just one man, and they…they're going to kill him. I think you know that, or you wouldn’t have…”

“He was going to shoot you,” Gwen whispered fiercely. 

Gwen had shot a man holding a gun at him. Merlin had killed a man on his _back_ , bleeding out in a gutter. For Arthur, Merlin had…

 _No_. They didn’t have time. Merlin winced, pushing it all deeper.

“Where’d you even get a…?” Merlin started asking before he realised it didn’t entirely matter to him in the least. His mind kept fixating despite his best efforts to ignore his conscience. Arthur was going to make him say it all out loud. He was going to have to cope with being a murderer _and_ Arthur’s horrified scorn once Arthur knew the truth. Merlin was going to lose him. What had he become?

“Lance,” Gwen said hurriedly and shot a look over her shoulder. Merlin half expected Arthur to be standing right behind them, but the hallway remained clear. “When Arthur called me, he said he thought you might be in serious trouble. Lance wasn’t home, and I just…He won’t leave, Merlin, not of his own will.”

“He’s the hero sort, I know. But he can’t stay here while we take the time to figure out how to protect his stupid noble arse.” _I don’t even know who we can trust anymore,_ Merlin thought miserably. He didn’t even know if he was certain where Morgana sat in this whole mess, if she honestly was just trying to protect her brother the best way she could.

“ _Merlin!”_ Arthur’s voice roared from the kitchen and Merlin flinched. Gwen winced in sympathy. They were in this together, Merlin reminded himself. Gwen wanted Arthur safe as much as he did. Merlin had finished the job, but Gwen had pulled the trigger. They could get through this. Arthur didn’t need to know.

“We need to get him out.”

“Can’t you…” Gwen rolled a hand. She mimed her hand swishing and bopping him on the head with a stick when Merlin’s brow knit in confusion. “You know. _Convince_ him.” Merlin met her eye for a moment before they straightened, turning to meet Arthur standing impatiently at the end of the hall with his hands on his hips. 

“If you old ladies are done,” Arthur snapped. “I hope you’ve got your stories straight.”

Merlin swallowed, squaring his shoulders and walking past Arthur’s sharp eyes. What Gwen was suggesting... Merlin wasn’t sure if he was entirely comfortable with the idea. Gwen was sensible and level-headed, and she had taken everything that had happened that night remarkably well. She had more experience with Arthur – she knew how to handle him, and if she thought this was a losing battle…

She was right in this too, Merlin thought as he took in the stiff lines of Arthur and the determined set of Gwen who had taken over the task of pouring milk into teacups with her back to the boys.

He took a deep breath. Arthur kept his arms crossed as Merlin stepped up to face him, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s. If this went wrong, Merlin had no contingency plan, and he knew that Arthur would erupt if he had any suspicion as to what Merlin was about to do. Arthur’s chest felt like stone against the flat of Merlin’s palm.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin said. He didn’t know how Arthur kept managing to put him in impossible situations, floundering to patch things together as best he could. Arthur’s expression softened a fraction, and Merlin’s heart twisted. The golden tinge that always painted the world when he used magic flared across his vision, burning the surprised look on Arthur’s face into Merlin’s mind next to every other unforgivable act weighing on his conscience. “You need to let us take you somewhere safe.”

“Of course,” Arthur said.

Merlin shot a look at Gwen who had fumbled the teapot, the sharp clatter of ceramic drawing his attention. She hissed as part of the hot liquid caught her hand. She held his eye a moment before darting a look at Arthur. “You’re not going to argue?” she asked slowly.

Arthur’s brow knit in confusion. “Would you like me to?” Arthur’s hands bracketed Merlin’s face, his eyes focused intently on Merlin’s mouth. Merlin thought for a moment that Arthur might decide to kiss him, but Arthur’s thumbs caught at the corner of his lips and pressed Merlin’s mouth up into a strange facsimile of a smile. Arthur beamed at him. “I like it when you smile.”

Merlin batted Arthur’s hands away and Arthur looked disappointed and perhaps a little bit sad. Merlin frowned. “Sorry,” said Arthur.

“Arthur, sit,” Merlin said, suspicion curling in his gut. “Shite,” he said as Arthur promptly sat in the nearest chair and looked about himself in interest. Merlin looked to Gwen in distress.

“We can figure it out later,” Gwen said, though she sounded distinctly unnerved and Merlin could see the soft tremble in her hands and she pulled Arthur to his feet again. “For now, it’s a blessing we can’t worry about.”

They left the house like fugitives, and Merlin supposed that’s exactly what he and Gwen were now. Arthur ambled between them, running into Merlin every time he stopped short and apologising profusely. The whole thing was driving Merlin a bit mad. Gwen remained silent, her hands directing Arthur as she might a small child whenever there was a chance he might not keep out of sight when Merlin crept forward to suss out their path.

They made it to the northwest corner of the cricket stadium where Lance was waiting on them in his beat-up old Skoda. Merlin’s heart felt like it was beating its way out his throat, and even Arthur’s hand that had slipped into Merlin's unasked wasn’t so much a comfort as a reminder of everything Merlin had done that evening. He was a horrible person.

Gwen had thrown herself into the car. As Merlin directed Arthur into the back seating, he could see Lance holding her as tight as he could manage in front and hear Lance whispering something that was no doubt salve for her conscience. 

Arthur beamed at Merlin and said, “Shall I hug you too?”

“No,” Merlin said a bit more sharply than he had intended. Arthur curled in on himself and went silent. “Lance – Gwen...I need to check on –“

“Gaius?” Gwen asked.

“Yeah.” Merlin did his best to ignore Arthur at his side. He didn’t know if it was the best idea to go straight to Gaius after what Agravaine had said, given that it meant Gaius was also on someone’s radar, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave his great uncle without warning the man of his own danger if not seeing him to safety.

“Will Arthur be alright?” Lance asked dubiously as they made their way through the London streets.

“Yes?” Merlin said and Gwen shot him a concerned look. Arthur nodded his head in agreement.

“This isn’t the sort of magic I know how to _do_. I…there was a dog when I was a kid – used to bark at me all the time. He tried to bite me once, and I just…” Merlin glanced at Arthur who smiled back, looking happy and hopeful all at once. “It’ll wear off.” _I hope it wears off_ , Merlin thought worriedly, because this Arthur was ridiculous.

And really, he should probably be more concerned with the fact that both Gwen and Lance seemed perfectly fine with the fact that he had magic – the fact that Gwen had barely batted an eye at Agravaine outing him in the dark and the sight of Arthur falling into line in a matter of heartbeats. Lance’s grip was relaxed on the wheel and didn’t even question the fact that Merlin’s explanation involved the word magic and the implication that it had been used to alter his friend’s mental state in the least. Of the three of them, Merlin felt the most unsettled by the evening’s events, and that alone made him grip Arthur’s hand tighter. Arthur just smiled at him and squeezed back.

They were only passing Hammersmith when Merlin’s phone thrummed for the fifth time. He’d been ignoring it since he’d locked Morgana in her office and sped to Arthur’s side. This time, however, Arthur had slipped it from Merlin’s pocket and said “Oh, that’s nice.” Merlin snatched it back and scanned the text alert. 

_Gaius Whiteman is safe._

Arthur asked, “Are we?”

It was from an unknown number. Merlin had no idea how to react. Was is ominous? Was it genuinely meant to be a reassurance? If it was, who in their right mind would think sending such a missive would ease anyone’s mind at all?

“Maybe,” Merlin muttered in response to Arthur who looked vaguely pleased.

“You want him to be safe, don’t you?” Arthur asked at Merlin’s frown and Gwen turned around in her seat to see what was going on. Merlin handed her his mobile wordlessly.

“We can’t go there now,” Gwen said. She turned off Merlin’s phone and unrolled her window. “Lance, take the M4 out.” 

It took a moment too long for him to realise what Gwen was about to do, and in that moment his mobile went sailing through the night air and ricocheted off a bus in the roundabout. The crunch that followed snapped Merlin out of his shock. “You just – my phone!” he said intelligently. 

“I think your mobile just got crushed by a lorry,” Arthur said helpfully.

Gwen had the decency to look a bit sheepish, but her chin rose and she said, “Someone could track it.”

“They have _magic_. The odds of my _mobile_ being the greatest liability in this scenario are near non-existent,” Merlin said in exasperation. Arthur patted Merlin’s shoulder in a show of solidarity.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Gwen said. “Lance?”

Lance was watching Merlin in his rear-view mirror as though waiting for confirmation. After a moment’s hesitation, Merlin gave a short nod. Gwen was right. Not about his mobile – he rather thought she’d seen too many police dramas, and he was more worried about there being some sort of magical tracking spell he was unaware of than something as mundane as the GPS on their phones. She was right about Gaius. They couldn’t check on him whether the message was true or not. There was nothing that could be said by phone that they could believe, and it wasn’t as though he and Gaius had some sort of secret code that could be imparted via text as verification anyhow. That sort of thing wasn’t something normal people had. Merlin’s life wasn’t supposed to include situations that would make that sort of thing necessary. Either Gaius was safe with someone on their side, or he wasn’t. Either way, other parties knew about his connection to the old man and would look for them there; if they continued on to Gaius’ home in Kew, they might not walk out again with Arthur.

“Where are we going?” Lance asked. For a moment Merlin had to fight the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Laugh at the fact that somehow, he had become the one everyone seemed to be looking to for answers out of this mess when he barely knew what was happening himself.

There was only one place he had ever felt safe. They couldn’t stay there for long, but he had no other fall backs.

“To the land of dragons,” Merlin said. “I hope one of you has change for the toll.”

**::**

Somewhere around the first hour – not long after Gwen had ordered Arthur to get some sleep, perhaps in the hopes of helping everyone present ignore how truly bizarre a complacent Arthur was – Merlin found the words to ask what had been bothering him since they had left London behind.

“Did Arthur tell you?’ Merlin asked. It was the only thing he could think of. 

Arthur had somehow managed to wedge himself down in his seat, coat pillowed against Merlin’s shoulder and was snoring softly as the headlights on the M4 flickered by the windows. Merlin watched Gwen share a quick look with Lance. She looked decidedly uncomfortable – though about what, Merlin couldn't reckon. “Merlin,” she started in a cautious voice.

“He didn't,” Merlin said with a frown. “You knew about magic before...well,” He didn't want to mention Agravaine. He wanted to forget Agravaine had ever even been there – that they had...that he had... ”Before.”

“Yes,” Gwen said abruptly. She met Merlin's eye over her seat, her gaze flicking to Arthur's unconscious face and back to Merlin. She didn't want to think about it either. She also apparently didn't want to be overly forthcoming with her knowledge of magic either.

It was Lance who rescued her, his voice level from the driver's seat. “I'm going to assume you used your magic tonight for more than sorting Arthur,” Lance said. Merlin caught Lance's eyes in the rear-view mirror. There was no ridicule in his expression or disbelief, and Merlin didn't know if he would ever get used to people speaking about his magic in such an open manner – not after so many years of hiding in the shadows. “Whatever happened, I won't ask – you both can tell me later if you think I need to know.”

“Who _are_ you?” Merlin breathed in relief and Lance gave a soft chuckle.

“Morgana told us,” Lance said. “About your magic. About Magic, in general, I suppose.”

“What? When?” Merlin asked. Arthur made a sound of discontent at Merlin's outburst and shifted deeper against Merlin's side. In what time had that woman prepared these two to deal with the reality of magic, and for that matter, why would she do that – create allies for Merlin that accepted him? She was trying to destroy everything that Arthur was. She may have told Merlin she was doing it for Arthur's sake, she might even believe that to be true, but -

“Years ago, Merlin,” Gwen said with a sigh. “Back before all this happened. Before we even met you, or...she told me that Arthur was more important than we could imagine, and that the Emrys would come for him and keep him safe. She had magic. She said the Emrys would too. You're Merlin Emrys – it wasn't that far of a leap.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don't know,” Gwen said. “I don't think she did either. After she said that, she started drifting away from us all. Lance went away, and...well, she said Uther could never know. Not about Arthur, or magic or anything. She made us promise. She wouldn't tell Arthur about it either, though at the time he made it rather hard to see him as...”

“He was a bit of a berk,” Lance said helpfully. 

“Yes,” Gwen agreed reluctantly. She glanced back at Arthur and added, “But I don't think that's who he really was, even then.”

Morgana could see the future, Merlin remembered. She had said it herself. Having Gwen confirm that didn't entirely ease his mind towards the revelation, and he definitely needed to just curl up and process what his life was at the moment. But none of this was something he could deal with on his own, and if he could allow himself to believe for the time being that Morgana was on their side...things might be a bit easier. 

He refused to let the idea be accepted entirely, but he would consider it.

“Your mother's in Wales, isn't she,” Gwen said quietly.

Merlin lowered his head. He studied the mess of blond hair at his side and the way Arthur's fingers had curled around Merlin's wrist as he slept. There had been something about Arthur from the very first moment Merlin had seen him, something Merlin hadn't been able to ignore. Something that had pushed Merlin to risk losing himself to save the man's father and pushed him now to keep Arthur from harm even when a part of him knew the smartest survival plan would be to just walk away. Arthur was trouble, but Merlin couldn't help himself.

“Yeah,” Merlin said softly. “Junction 24. Second exit on the roundabout.”

**::**

Merlin's childhood home was tucked away in the small village of Llanfrechfa, closer to Cwbran than Newport. It had always been easier to tell people in London he was from Newport or Cardiff than Llanfrechfa, mainly because an English sounding town like Newport never earned him any strange looks or quips about consonants – most people knew where Newport was and he never had to explain further that yes, Llanfrechfa was a place, and no, he wouldn't spell it for them. 

The house itself was really only one and a half levels – a white slated first floor and a single bedroom tucked up under a red gable. The road that led to it was barely wide enough for Lance's car between the low brick wall on one side and the overgrown field fencing on the other. It was the safest place Merlin knew to hide Arthur other than perhaps a cave in Greenland. It was the safest place he knew, but Merlin didn't know if it was _safe enough._

Hunith had ushered them inside, fussing over Arthur draped sleepily between Lance and Merlin despite being woken in the early hours and still in her dressing gown. After a few embarrassing minutes, the four of them managed to deposit Arthur in Merlin's old room on the main floor. As he met her eyes on the way back to the kitchen, Merlin knew he would have a great deal of explaining to do to his mother.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a pot of tea sitting on the little kitchen table, and no comfortable safety net of Gwen and Lance at his side. Merlin knew the time of reckoning was at hand. The fact that it started with Hunith's arms wrapped around him and a moment to just remember what it felt like to be young and at ease in his own skin was something he loved her fiercely for. When he had relaxed – and how had he not noticed how tense he had been for so long? - she patted his cheek and said, “Sit down and tell me what happened.”

And Merlin began at the very beginning; he had learned at a young age hiding anything from his mother was near impossible and not at all advisable.

“Merlin, look at me,” Hunith said once he had finished. It wasn't until she wrapped her hands around Merlin’s from across the small table that he realised his fingers had started to tap anxiously against the flat wood surface. “You were right to bring him here.”

Merlin was silent. Arthur was still fast asleep in Merlin’s old room at the back of the house, and while Gwen and Lance had protested, they too had eventually relented and retired upstairs to Hunith’s room to catch what rest they could before daylight hit. The stress and worry of everything that had happened over the past week had finally caught up with them all, and Merlin envied Gwen that she had Lance so close to hold her together. He hadn't told his mother about Agravaine – he'd glossed over that part until Arthur's uncle hadn't even been in the street, he and Gwen had just run into each other out front and forced Arthur to leave. She knew he was hiding something – Merlin had no doubts that his mother could read him better than himself – but she didn't press him on it, and Merlin knew it was a secret he would have to keep for the rest of his life. 

He hadn't lied about Arthur, though. What he had done to Arthur was an unforgivable violation to anyone – the fact that it was Arthur, who trusted him with everything he was…Merlin felt broken. He hadn’t been able to see an alternative. Gwen had Lance to tell her everything would be alright, to tell her all those little white lies people needed to hear after traumatic events that would allow them the space to collect themselves and face the dawn. Merlin had a simpleton Arthur.

“He'll forgive you,” Hunith said. Her hand patted his once more before withdrawing. 

“You don't know that,” Merlin said miserably. He could climb into his small bed, curl next to Arthur, and this Arthur would do whatever he was asked as though it brought him the greatest joy – and the moment he came back to himself, Merlin would have nothing. Arthur in this state might just be the last chance Merlin had to be near him at all.

“I want you to go to sleep, love,” Hunith said as she got to her feet. “Get some rest. What comes will come – there's nothing you can do about it now.” She stopped him on his slow trudge out of the kitchen, a warm hand on the back of his neck. “He'll forgive you,” she repeated firmly. “He's a part of you, love. Don't doubt that you're a part of him too.”

**::**

Merlin woke with a grunt and a confused floundering as his body tried to figure out what had hit his leg. It earned him a knock to his head against something solid and the clatter of action figures tumbling down in a shower of brightly coloured plastic. 

He was in his old room, Merlin realised, one hand rubbing his head where it had struck against the wall. He was on the floor of his old room under his mother’s afghan, and the shoddy little shelf on the wall by his bed had dumped its contents over him because he'd never got around to fixing the damn thing. He let out a loud curse as he rolled onto something decidedly pointy. That was as far as his thought process got before he realised Arthur was looming over him, looking furious and more intimidating than he should, given the way his sleep-mussed hair stuck up at the back.

There wasn't much chance of an escape from Arthur – Merlin's room was barely bigger than the twin bed he’d tucked Arthur into a few hours before, and Arthur had planted himself in front of the door blocking Merlin’s flight. There was a brief moment where Merlin eyed the small window over the bed before he caught Arthur's eyes narrowing and dismissed the idea. If he hadn't fit through it at sixteen, he was unlikely to have more success now. Besides, his mother had planted a rose bush under it after the last time he'd tried.

Arthur's foot kicked Merlin's shin again, and twice more until Merlin shifted and his shock slid into irritation. 

“What happened?” Arthur barked. 

Arthur barely acknowledged when there was a scramble at the door and Gwen caught herself on the door jamb. “Merlin, are you alright?” she asked out of breath, and Merlin knew she had run from helping his mother in the kitchen, an apron cinched about her waist and flour on her hands. “I heard a...Arthur.”

“Gwen,” Arthur said tightly, still glaring down at Merlin’s sprawl. “Where are we?”

“You don't remember?” Gwen asked. She was trying to communicate something to Merlin by facial expression alone behind the stone of Arthur's back, but Merlin wasn't really adept at that sort of thing and blurted, “You fainted.”

Arthur whole expression pulled back and Merlin could see the physical progression of incredulity creeping across Arthur's face. Behind him, Gwen winced. It was a ridiculous thing to say. Who would honestly believe that a man like Arthur would faint – and then stay unconscious while they packed him into a car for the nearly three hour journey into the heart of Wales – but it was all Merlin could think of. Really, he should have spent more time working out just how they were going to explain things to Arthur.

Merlin's hands flailed at Gwen when Arthur spun to face her, perhaps for backup, but he was relieved to see that she merely raised her eyebrows impassively at Arthur and stared him down. God, Merlin was really starting to love Gwen.

“I did not _faint,”_ Arthur said firmly, raising a finger to point at Merlin still sprawled on the ground in what Merlin was beginning to see as a habit of Arthur's. Arthur turned the point to include Gwen and Lance who had appeared behind her. He nodded as though that sorted matters and stomped past them. Merlin heard the back door slam shut. “Are we in bloody _Wales_?” they heard through the window and Merlin groaned, letting his head thump back against the wall. 

“That could have gone better,” Merlin muttered.

“No,” Gwen said, leaning forward on her toes to peer out the window. “That was likely one of the better outcomes.”

“You think he'll buy it?” Merlin scrambled onto his bed, cautiously rising on his knees to catch sight of Arthur pacing out by his mother's lilacs.

“You realise that's how it started with his father,” Gwen said softly. “Fainting, losing track of time.” Merlin met her eyes and instantly felt, impossibly, worse. “He might believe it. But we need to come up with something tangible, or he’s heading back to London the moment we look away.”

**::**

“I suppose you came out to tell me how unreasonable I'm being? How irresponsible it would be, returning to London?” Arthur snapped when he heard the soft footfalls approach where he sat only half an hour later. He had forced himself to stop pacing, to sink down onto an old wooden bench in the back garden. He had long since mastered an outward stillness when he needed one. His insides still vibrated with pent up energy, and he frankly didn’t trust himself not to erupt if Gwen started chastising him like he wasn’t fully aware they had landed in some messed up shite.

“No,” a voice he didn’t recognize said. 

Arthur’s eyes snapped up to meet warm brown eyes in a kind face framed by a long braid over one shoulder. Hunith, Arthur’s mind supplied dumbly. The woman whose home they had invaded. He clamped down on the curse that tried to escape – he _would not_ curse in front of Merlin’s mother. “I know a young man like you doesn't want to hear it, because you're all headstrong and know what's best for yourself,” Hunith added with a tone Arthur couldn't quite place. It sounded...a bit like fondness, he thought. “Merlin is the same way. You think you have every right to take risks because it's _your_ life on the line.”

“I…” Arthur had very little experience dealing with mothers. Not just the fact that he’d never known his – Gwen and Lance had also lost mothers before Arthur had known them, and Leon’s lived in the north, near Carlisle. “I’m sorry. This isn't how I wanted to meet you, Mrs. Emrys.”

When Merlin's mother smiled, Arthur could see the dark-haired man in her eyes and the curve of her lips. “Hunith, _”_ she corrected gently.

“Hunith,” Arthur amended. “You can't have a very good opinion of me from all of this.”

Hunith laughed and Arthur looked down in surprise as he felt her hand pat his knee. “You were half asleep at the time, but you called me lovely...And asked Merlin if he were up for sharing, I might add.” At Arthur's frown, she said, “You were exhausted, love. Though if you take it back, I might just box your ears.”

Arthur let out a stream of breath. “I’m sorry. I can't stay here, Hunith. I don’t know what’s waiting for me back in London, but I can't hide in the Welsh hills for the rest of my life.” 

“No,” Hunith agreed. “And I can't stop Merlin from going with you when you leave. Or Gwen, or Lance.” Arthur frowned, digging his heel into the ground at his feet. “Whatever you do, whatever precautions you take to keep them from the dangers you may face, they will find a way to get to you. And believe me… that never turns out for the best.”

“I don't want to hurt your son, Hunith, but I will if it is the only way to keep him safe.”

“You don't know Merlin very well yet, do you?” Hunith gave Arthur a sad smile. “The only way to keep him in line is to keep him in sight. He's made up his mind about you, I'm afraid, and nothing you say will change that. He will always follow you.”

“He won't follow me if he hates me,” Arthur said. 

“The two of you,” Hunith said with a slight shake of her head.

Arthur was silent, his sight lost somewhere in the midrange between their feet and the garden wall. The anger that had gripped him upon waking in Merlin's matchbox of a room still simmered hot in his chest, but if he was honest with himself, it wasn't the fact that his...whatever the four of them were to each other now, had secreted him out of London against his will. He _was_ angry about that. He was angry that not one of them had respected his choice to take a stand. He was angry that he knew Merlin and his magic had to have had a hand in forcing him from his home. But he was _angriest_ at the fact that despite Merlin's betrayal, his feelings for the man hadn't shifted in the least, and that was the root cause of the frustration that kept his mind circling back to everything that kept that anger fuelled.

The three inside…even his father. His sister. He still...Arthur rested his head in his hands, his fingers twisted in his fringe briefly. It hurt. How was it possible to love people who betrayed you? Because he did. Even after everything, he still loved them all. His father, who had never been the man Arthur had thought him to be and showed affection so sparingly that each time was like a precious gift. His sister, who would strike him down when he was already battered and who just maybe killed their father in cold blood. Merlin, who kept secrets and abused Arthur’s trust when he knew what Arthur had been through – knew that Arthur needed stability from at least one person in his life. Gwen and Lance who sided against him and helped Merlin dictate what was best for Arthur at a time when Arthur already felt like he was struggling to find his own voice.

He still loved them all.

He couldn't think logically about the whole situation. Because, despite knowing without question that he should take the first way back to London that presented itself and tell Merlin everything they might have had together was a mangled wreckage that had caught fire somewhere on the M4 on the way out here – Arthur couldn't tell himself to stop loving the man. Arthur just didn't know how to reconcile those thoughts, or where they stood now. The two of them, the four of them – where Arthur stood in the world at large.

“When is your court date?” Hunith said softly.

Arthur blinked, pulling his thoughts back into place alongside Hunith. When _was_ his court date? He wasn't surprised that Merlin or Gwen had told the woman at least a little about his situation. 

Camelot, like most major corporations, was structured in such a way that it could operate without its CEO for a time. Uther had never needed to have a hand in everything at every moment of the day, and since Arthur had taken control of the company, he had ensured that everyone could operate independently if needed and take responsibility for their own departments. With Camelot Holdings caught up in a legal mire, Arthur couldn't make any of the drastic changes his position allowed anyhow. “A few weeks,” Arthur admitted.

If he could settle himself, feel less like throttling Merlin and kissing him all the same, then he _could_ afford to indulge Merlin and Gwen for a few days if he had Catriona reschedule some meetings…That wasn't the point though – it was his reputation they were threatening. Arthur knew how people worked. He knew how deals were struck and how to swing things in his favour over a bargaining table simply by manipulating the very real, very _human_ voices of the corporate world. If he hid away, to a group like Unicorn, it would be taken as an indication of cowardice, and his advantages would start slipping away. Merlin had _no right_ to make that choice for him. 

He needed to stop. He needed a distraction from the maelstrom in his head.

“May I ask you something else?” Hunith said lightly. Arthur frowned but gave a short nod nonetheless. “If my son was standing in lightning storm with a colander strapped to his head,” she said with a small smile. “Would you be watching from inside the house?”

“Of course not,” Arthur said.

“What if he hurt your feelings first?” Hunith asked. Her hand was firm and warm but fleeting against his shoulder as she used it to help her stand.

“It's not the same thing,” Arthur argued.

“My mistake,” Hunith said, and Arthur had the strange feeling she was laughing at him. 

_It’s not the same_ , Arthur repeated to himself. But a part of him had started imagining Merlin lying prone in his bed, his eyes as blank as Uther’s had been – thinking of the weight of Uther on his shoulders that day as he was carried from the church, and how warm Merlin’s hand had been when the first clod of dirt had hit the black-glossed pine. Arthur didn’t know if his father had been murdered, whether by Unicorn or Morgana, or the two working in tandem. He didn’t know if Uther’s illness had just relapsed and taken him in the night. But he knew that he couldn’t lose anyone else. And if keeping them close, and keeping his own eyes on them, was the only way to ease the worry, then that was what he had to do. Hunith was right – Arthur would run headlong into danger for any of them. He could only hope that those he loved weren’t as foolhardy as he was.

He didn’t even realise Hunith had left until he heard the back door shut and looked up to see Lance watching him from a few yards off.

“You were the getaway driver, I suppose,” Arthur said tiredly. He crossed his ankles and settled deeper into the wooden bench. Gwen had never liked driving, and he knew Merlin didn’t even have a Learner’s permit.

“You have a right to be angry,” Lance said. “To be upset.”

“I’m not upset-“

“Arthur.”

Arthur let out a huff at the chiding tone in Lance’s voice. “Fine, I am. And I’m bloody livid. But I’m also…I don’t know. I wish you hadn’t been dragged into this. Merlin -”

“He did what he had to, to keep you alive,” Lance said with such solid conviction that Arthur couldn’t help but stare at him. “Even knowing you might hate him for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur scowled. “Lance, what reason–“

“They were coming to kill you last night, Arthur,” Lance said calmly. “That gunshot you heard – if Merlin hadn’t gotten you out in time, you would have been six feet under by now.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a business man. This is England, not some American gangster film. Who _are_ these phantom ‘they’ anyhow? Unicorn? God, what is my life,” Arthur muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I know your pride’s been bruised, Arthur, but that man loves you. I think you know that. I think the rational part of you under all that indignation realises that he would never have done what he did if there was another option.” Lance raise a hand overriding Arthur’s fierce interjection. “They did ask you to leave, Arthur. There wasn’t time to convince you, and you are a stubborn git when you want to be. Did you really want to see them try and defend you if you’d stayed? They’re not soldiers, Arthur. Running was the only option.”

“Maybe for them,” Arthur snapped. He really didn’t like the knowing smirk that was starting to pull at the corner of Lance’s face. 

“What was your plan, Arthur? Walk into the streets of London and pound your chest until the phantom group was frightened off?”

“That gunshot,” Arthur said slowly as his mind worked to piece things together. “They didn’t find anyone. Merlin and Gwen were outside, Gwen was near hysterics when she came inside - someone shot at Merlin, didn’t they. That’s why Merlin thinks…why he’s so convinced…”

 _Someone had shot at Merlin,_ Arthur’s mind repeated. _Someone had fired a weapon at_ Merlin _._

Lance said nothing, but that was damning enough in Arthur’s mind. “Merlin did something…something _magic_ to scare them off.” Someone else, someone dangerous, knew that Merlin had magic. Merlin was already in danger.

“We can’t stay here, Arthur,” Lance said. “But we can’t go back just yet either.”

**::**

There must have been something in Merlin's expression, because Gwen had draped the heavy navy blanket from Merlin's bed around his shoulders and left him to sit alone in his old room. The blanket still smelt a bit of Arthur. Merlin pulled it close up around his neck.

The feeling of _wrong_ hadn't left him even after the meagre hours of rest on the wooden floor. It didn't feel like it had with Uther – that phantom taint that slowly poisoned his senses and sucked all light from the world - this was…heavy, the feel of something thick seeking a home and pushing for entrance in places that were already full. Merlin wondered if this was what guilt felt like. 

He looked down at his hand peeking out from the blanket, his skin ghost pale against the dark blue. He had killed a man with that hand. He had done it to save Arthur's life. 

But he hadn't, entirely, had he? He didn't know if Agravaine would have succeeded, even if he had made it inside – and Agravaine wouldn't have had the strength to do anything if he'd been recuperating in hospital from Gwen's shot. They would have had time to get away. No, Merlin had taken Agravaine's life because he would always be a threat to Arthur. Because they needed to send a message to this shadow organization that Merlin wouldn't stand for them threatening Arthur. Because it had been _easier_ than dealing with the fallout of Agravaine surviving his wounds.

Because in that moment, Merlin had wanted to.

Merlin had wanted to.

How many more lives might Merlin have to take to keep Arthur safe? It felt like there was a storm on the horizon, and Merlin knew the dangers facing Arthur were just beginning - if a time came when Merlin was asked to do it again, would he? He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

How had Arthur become so bloody important to him? So important that the need to keep him safe was like a visceral thing inside his bones? Merlin launched himself to his feet and took off at a stumbling run. He needed fresh air. He needed – the back door crashed against the side house and Merlin nearly tripped over the low stone threshold that led into the back garden. He caught sight of Arthur rising swiftly to his feet beside Lance, and Merlin couldn't deal with the thought of Arthur just then – not with memories of Agravaine's death roving under his skin. He needed to get away – away from everyone.

“ _Merlin_!” he heard shouted sharply, but his feet kept moving forward.

The back wall of the garden was a low stone one, built ages ago from field rocks and covered in old ivy. Merlin scrambled over it with barely a pause. He careened as he narrowly avoided being run over by an old man on a bicycle in the small lane and continued his trajectory. With one hand on the splintered wood post of the field's fencing across the way, he vaulted over. He felt the leg of his trousers catch on the wire fencing that ran between, but he couldn't focus on that, not when his insides felt like they were crawling out his throat. He landed heavily. 

Merlin could only take a few more shambling steps before he collapsed in the field, his stomach emptying itself in the dirt.

There was a hand on his back. Merlin closed his eyes, focusing on the point of pressure. His muscles convulsed and he lost whatever was left in his stomach. But the feeling of nausea persisted. He dug his fingers into the dirt and he pushed – pushed out everything that was curling dark and foreign around his bones, making him feel sick and used – the stolen life that nestled next to his. It needed somewhere to go. He couldn't contain it all. He felt like he could hardly contain anything at all.

 _Get out_ , Merlin screamed at the tendrils that clung at him, that dripped like molasses through his fingertips and into the earth.

The hand ran up and down his spine in warm broad strokes. Merlin shuddered. He was so very tired. The exhaustion took up residency where the feeling of wrong slipped away and Merlin withdrew his dirty fingers, curling them tight against his knees as he sat back on his ankles.

“What…” Arthur's voice said softly as his hand stilled against Merlin’s back. 

Merlin opened his eyes reluctantly. The pasture hat Merlin had fallen in looked as though it had been left to fallow for years – without tending, squirrel caches had become little clusters of trees and saplings and brilliant wild flowers that had overtaken grazing lands, spreading out from Merlin's knees as far as he could see. 

_It's the time I have stolen_ , Merlin realised dully. It was a mark of his sin. Arthur was still staring at the field, astonishment painted across his features.

“It was worth it,” Merlin whispered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Arthur would leave him for being a monster, for every wrong he had ever committed. But Merlin would keep protecting him. Arthur was alive. “I’m not sorry, because it was worth it,” he repeated as he turned to meet Arthur's eyes. And Merlin knew he _would_ do it again if he had to.

It terrified him that the thought felt so _right_.

Arthur let out a sigh. His hand still rested warmly on Merlin's back as he said, “Let's get you inside.”

Arthur kept his hand as a steady presence against the small of Merlin’s back as they shuffled across the flowers, guiding Merlin through the gate this time with subtle shifts of pressure. Once inside, Merlin pulled away and made a beeline for the loo and Arthur let him. Gwen stared between him and Merlin before settling on Arthur. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Is he alright?” she asked. Lance glanced up from where he was shifting through files from Arthur's briefcase. _Good,_ Arthur thought. _Someone remembered to bring that, at least._ For a moment it looked as if the man was considering getting up and following after Merlin, but Gwen turned a hard stare on him before levelling it at Arthur. “You need to help him.”

“I can’t,” Arthur said firmly. The frisson of worry that shot through him at seeing Merlin flying from his mother’s house was dissipating now that he knew Merlin was, relatively, fine. He still didn’t know where his feelings fell on everything that had happened – everything was such a… 

“How long are you planning on staying angry at him?” Gwen asked over folded arms.

Arthur straightened, his eyes narrowing and his fingers curling against his arms where he’d unconsciously mirrored Gwen. “I don't know what he did to get me out of London – knocked me out, hypnotised me – but it was against my will, Gwen. He abducted me. Knowing my feelings on the matter, he used something I had no chance of fighting to force me into action against my will. I don't know how to make that more clear, and I sure as hell don't know how to let that go.”

“You let that go, because _I_ asked him to do it,” Gwen snapped. “It's on me. If you need someone to be angry at, here I am.”

“You didn't hold a gun to his head,” Arthur snapped back, watching Gwen flinch. He felt tired. Exhausted with it all. “I get it,” he interrupted as he saw Gwen's mouth open to begin anew, as though she could snap her fingers and sort his head. “And it might have been the best course of action. _Might_. But it isn't something that’s easy to push aside.”

Gwen's arms dropped from where they had folded across her chest. Lance got to his feet. “I'll go see how -”

“He needs Arthur,” Gwen said.

Arthur glanced down the hall towards where Merlin had disappeared. He could hear the sound of the tap running as it had been since Merlin had first shut the door. “I don't know what to say,” he admitted quietly.

“You compartmentalize all the issues that are stopping you, and you tell him everything is going to be alright,” Gwen said firmly. “And then we make it right.”

Arthur wanted to laugh, as mirthless as it would be. Gwen made it all seem so simple. So simple. Maybe just once, things would turn out that simple for him if he gave it a chance. He was good at repressing things – after all, he was his father’s son.

**::**

Merlin was hunched over the sink, splashing cold water across his face when Arthur slowly opened the door. The man stopped, his fingers pressing hard against his eyes. When he turned to face Arthur, Arthur watched as Merlin physically pulled himself together, his shoulders straightening and his chin level to the laminate floor. He looked like a soldier. A grim soldier, Arthur amended, ready to do battle.

Arthur let out a huff. With one hand he reached out and tangled his fingers in the sleeve of Merlin's shirt ignoring the man's flinch and manhandling Merlin's stiff form into a rough hug. Merlin tried to pull away, but Arthur held firm, his arms locked high around Merlin's back.

Merlin had no right to look like a soldier.

When he finally felt Merlin’s hands fist into the back of his shirt, Arthur ignored the cold water seeping through the material and nudged Merlin’s head with his nose.

“If it had been you refusing to see sense,” Arthur started in a quiet voice, his eyes focused on the dark head of hair and the feeling of having Merlin safe in his arms. “I'd have locked you in a trunk and shipped you to Peru. It has been brought to my attention that faulting you for doing the same isn't on.” He gave Merlin a tight squeeze before he ploughed on, because he needed to get everything out and Merlin had a bad tendency of distracting him when Arthur could see his face. “I haven't forgiven you. And if you use magic on me again without my consent, I will walk away whether I love you or not.”

“I won't -”

“We'll take some time to sort out a game plan,” Arthur continued without pause. “In the meanwhile, you need to sleep, and I need to make some calls.” Arthur pinched Merlin’s side when he felt the tell-tale intake of breath that meant Merlin had opened his mouth to argue. “That is non-negotiable, Merlin. If you treat me like a hostage, I’m tying you up and locking you in a broom cupboard. See if I won’t.”

**::**

Gaius opened his eyes to a ceiling covered in ornate, white-washed flowers reliefs.

Upon further inspection, he discovered he was lying atop a bed with far too many pillows, in the silk pyjamas and striped gown he had been wearing while watching Coronation Street. His slippers were missing, but he decided that wasn’t something he should be overly fussed at, given he clearly hadn’t just fallen asleep in his armchair - or if he had, that wasn’t where he had ended up.

He sighed. He was getting too old for this sort of thing.

There was the smell of rashers in the air as he shuffled off the bed with its fine linens. The room was well lit from high windows to the east, and he could see a line of white-faced town homes to his left, and a large treed park across the street. It looked a bit like South Kensington, by the style of homes, but he couldn’t be quite certain. He pressed lightly against the window pane, noting the small frisson that danced across his fingertips. Well, at least he knew a bit more about who or what he was dealing with.

He wandered out of the room and along a corridor lined with black and white photographs of cityscapes in light birch frames; following the smell of breakfast down the stairs and into the back kitchen.

There was a bald man cooking over the stove, his back turned to Gaius, and seemingly unconcerned that his house guest was up and about. Over the collar of his white t-shirt, Gaius could make out a ring of small tattoos encircling the man’s neck, resembling a series of crosses.

A Catha. 

“How many eggs?”

“Two,” Gaius said, keeping his eye on the man as he slid into a chair at the small table set against the wall. “And marmalade for my toast.”

“Tea should be brewed. Help yourself if you’d like.”

A man with a mop of dark hair that reach long below his ears and a scruffy beard strolled into the kitchen with a wide yawn. He cracked has back and took in the set table and Gaius with a casual glance.

“Did you hide my whiskey, you old hairless ape?”

Gaius paused in pouring milk into his tea, eyeing the Catha. He’d only met one of the order decades ago. That man hadn’t been one to trifle with. For his part, the Catha just ignored the man.

“Gaius, right?” The newest member of Gaius’ bizarre, possibly magic, abduction, said with a roguish grin. “Gwaine. Welcome to Casa de Gorlois. Mother will be pleased you’re awake.”

**::**

“What do you mean you lost track of him?” Arthur asked sharply. 

Arthur had manhandled an exhausted Merlin into bed and told him in no uncertain terms was he to even see Merlin’s face before Arthur said so. If Merlin had forced his will on Arthur, Arthur reminded Merlin it was only fair - that obeying Arthur in this was the very least he could do. _Would_ do – Arthur still planned a long list of demands he would see Merlin honour when they had the time. 

Upon reflection, Arthur knew it hadn’t been _entirely_ fair throwing Merlin’s abuse of magic about as leverage for exerting his will, given that it had apparently been in pursuit of saving his life – but he refused to let the knowledge stop him. He made sure Merlin had promised, settled, and closed his eyes.

And then Arthur had begun systematically piecing together what he had missed.

Mithian had echoed the opinion that he should keep his head low – an opinion that did nothing to help his mood, though she couched hers in the guise of legal advice. She was far too smart a woman not to. He didn’t doubt she and Gwen had colluded more than once with regards to dealing with him. 

He’d missed two calls from Morgana. Arthur knew on some level that he would eventually have to call her back, even if the thought was as appealing as walking through a pit of vipers. At the moment, however, his primary concern was Pellinore’s investigation. And how they had somehow lost his uncle – the one man Arthur knew had reason for a personal vendetta and the intimate knowledge of the things Arthur valued most in his life. The very last man Arthur wanted hunting them.

“He managed to slip by the sergeant posted on his house,” Pellinore’s voice said. “We haven’t been able to locate him since this morning. You’re certain you’re secure where you are?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched, the grip on his phone felt just shy of crushing the thing into dust. “We’ll survive. I’ll see if anyone at the office can track him; he can’t have that many places to hide.”

He knew Pellinore’s hands were tied. Magic wasn’t something that could hold up in a court of law, and there was only so much he could do to direct police resources without a solid case to support the effort. If anything was going to be resolved – if anyone was going to be held responsible for the murder of Owain Noble, or admit to the murder of Uther Pendragon – Arthur knew he was going to have to come up with something on his own. And that wasn’t even dealing with the immediacy of what Merlin and Gwen seemed so convinced was truth – that Unicorn had Arthur in their crosshairs, waiting for a clear shot.

Lance was still at the small wood table when Arthur made his way back into the kitchen. There was an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes skimmed Arthur that left an itch between his shoulder blades. Gwen was quite obviously trying to keep her head down and not rise to the urge of voicing her disapproval at Arthur having access to a phone at all. He still wasn’t entirely convinced by their story that he was in immediate danger, but the thought that _they_ might be by association – that Merlin might have already faced death for him, even if he didn’t want to admit it – made Arthur more willing to be cautious just in case. 

“You called Pellinore?” Lance said, turning back to the documents he was examining from Percy’s investigation. Whatever was happening, Arthur knew he needed more heads working on it than just himself, and if he trusted anyone, it was Lance. Lance would help keep the other two safe.

“I can’t just disappear,” Arthur responded. He fingered the edges of one of Percy’s newspaper articles. “There’s too much attention on me as is – I don’t need a police manhunt on my plate as well.”

“We’ll figure it out, Arthur,” Gwen said.

Arthur studied her in silence. He wondered if there was something more to the determined set of her shoulders, the shadow that seemed to lay just to the left of her eyes now whenever she looked his way. There was something uncomfortable that lurked in Arthur’s gut that whispered that something terrible must have happened, something he could barely fathom in relation to the woman he knew. She was supposed to be happy now, with Lance. And here Arthur had dragged her into a mess that could do nothing but make her so deeply unhappy - quite possibly in danger as a result of things so far out of Arthur’s control.

But Hunith was right. Gwen wasn’t the sort of woman who would allow herself to be side-lined for her own safety. Letting her try and continue to fight on her own was unconscionable to Arthur, because fight she would. 

Instead of voicing another impotent request for Lance to take Gwen far from him, Arthur cleared his throat and said, “What have we got?”

Lance met his eyes as though he already knew the thoughts running through Arthur’s head.

“That man,” Lance said, his fingers skirting the edge of one of the photos arrayed across the kitchen table. “I've seen him before.”

“You have?” Arthur glanced up at the frown on Lance's face as the man thought. “Where?”

Lance glanced to the back of the house, at the door off the empty living space that led to Merlin’s childhood room. “Upstairs. This morning, when Hunith offered us her bed...there was a photo of that man on the nightstand. It's not there now, she moved it…but -”

Arthur tapped his fingers against the table as he thought. Besides the fact that they couldn’t in good conscience start rummaging through Hunith’s belongings, Merlin would never forgive him if he found out about the breach of trust. The thought may have held less importance now than it might have the day before, but it still mattered to Arthur. There were only so many lines the two of them could cross before this fragile thing between them shattered irreparably. If it hadn’t already.

“When does Hunith get back?” Arthur asked instead. He could mire himself in those thoughts for weeks and get nowhere. Hunith, Arthur had discovered was employed as a Public Works secretary down in Newport in addition to maintaining an active involvement in a women’s shelter that ran out of Cwmbran. She had bustled out of the house shortly after verbally manhandling Arthur in a sensible direction – Arthur had no illusions that wasn’t exactly what she had done – and they hadn’t seen her since.

“She mentioned being home early,” Gwen said.

“Does anyone know what she considers regular ho–“ Arthur cut off at the sound of a sharp rap on the door. He shot a look back towards Merlin’s room.

“I’ve got it,” Lance said in a low voice.

“Lance –“ Arthur hesitated before giving him a short nod. As much as Arthur tended to think of himself as invincible against the world, he wasn’t a trained soldier and he’d never been in more than a few paltry scuffles as a teen – Lance, loathe as he was to admit, was more capable of assessing and dealing with any threat that could walk through that door. Though, that didn’t mean that Arthur wasn’t ready to jump into the fray if it came to that. “Gwen, make sure Merlin stays put.”

With his back to the wall and out of sight as Lance opened the door, Arthur couldn’t help but feel for a moment like perhaps he had allowed himself to be caught up in some wild conspiracy theory somewhere along the line. None of this seemed real – as though if he just stopped playing along, life would shift back into a place that made sense once more. They could all go out for a pint in Islington and laugh about that time they thought the world was out to get them and they ran away to Wales.

Arthur still tensed, his hands curling into fists despite himself. There was a pinched look to Lance’s profile. The man’s eyes darted a quick sidewise look at Arthur before he moved forward, on hand gripped tightly to the door frame. Arthur scowled, edging closer to see beyond the door.

“There’s no one there,” Lance said in a low voice, his eyes scanning the front garden, the drive. He even did a once over of the doorframe and front walk, the shrubbery nearby, looking for gods only knew what. Arthur didn’t blame him – even he didn’t know what to expect if something as unquantifiable as magic existed in the world. “There’s a bike in the lane that wasn’t there before, but…”

Given everything, he wasn’t about to write it off as a mere prank. They would have to see if Merlin could find something when he had rested, and –

There was the sound of a shout, a yelp and a crash, and before Arthur could even react, Lance was sprinting past him shouting for Gwen.

**::**

“His name is Will,” Merlin said unhappily. He had his arms crossed, mirroring the position of the ruddy-faced man on the chesterfield across from him with more of a frown than then brown-haired man’s scowl. “And he should know better than to sneak into people’s houses uninvited.”

“I told you,” Will said waspishly, nursing his head with a block of ice wrapped in one of Hunith’s floral teacloths. “Old man Fisher said he saw you running like the hounds of Hell were snappin’ at your heels, and _that_ one,” he said with a jab in Arthur’s direction, “came bounding after. How was I supposed to know you weren’t in trouble? Last time you were chased by lads like him I had to -”

“ _Will!_ ”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

He and Lance had skidded to a stop outside Merlin’s room in time to see Gwen thoroughly clock Will upside the head, sending him careening backwards over the chesterfield. Merlin’s eyes had flared with a bright polished gold, arresting Will’s momentum with a raised hand, bare inches from hitting his head against the low table, Merlin panting from his mad spring to action. Arthur still felt a bit like his heart was pumping overtime on adrenaline which made it all the more difficult to keep a hold on his temper with what was, evidently, an old childhood friend of Merlin’s. 

“Merlin doesn’t need rescuing,” Arthur said firmly. “Not from Lance, and not from me.”

“I’ll hear it from him,” Will said stubbornly, jerking his head towards Merlin. “Whiskey Igloo Nancy Kilo if you’re being held against your will, Merles.”

“For the love of –“ Arthur shot Merlin a glare.

“November,” Lance interjected. “The ICAO phonetic alphabet uses November, not Nancy.”

“Who says I’m using ICAO’s system?” 

“Will, I’m _fine_ ,” Merlin insisted. “Thank you for checking on me, but you really shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm, wheeling him about and pushing him into the kitchen to the sound of Will bickering with Lance over standardized codes. “How much is it going to cost to get him to keep quiet and disappear?”

“What?” Merlin frowned, tugging his arm free of Arthur’s grasp before he seemed to catch on to Arthur’s train of thought. “He’d never take your money – if anything, that’d just make him more likely to –“

“You’re the one on the security kick, _Mer_ lin. Get rid of him.”

Merlin met Arthur’s scowl with one of his own. He darted a look back at where Will still sat petulantly on the chesterfield. There was something contemplative in his eyes – something Arthur knew likely meant something he wouldn’t be happy about.

“Will,” Merlin stopped in front of the man’s sulking form. “Are you still holed up in your family’s estate?”

“What if I am?”

“We need to stay there,” Merlin said. “All of us.”

Will shot Arthur a critical once over.

“Will, please. I’ll explain everything.”

“ _Mer_ lin –“ Arthur said fiercely, Gwen and Lance shooting alarmed looks at the dark haired man.

A grin split across Will’s face at the reaction. “Yeah, alright. Sounds like it’s something worth hearing.”

**::**

Hunith eased her car into her narrow drive, noting as she got out the bike stacked haphazardly against the stone wall with its faded flame stickers and half a back reflector. She sighed. William ‘the Whirlwind’ Herbert had arrived. She hoped Merlin was being sensible.

She hauled out a box from the backseat, hooking a few overstuffed bags of blankets she would have to run up to the shelter later in the week. _Always in the thick of it, that boy_ , Hunith thought as she wrestled the donations into a manageable balance. _Just like his father_.

This sort of thing wasn’t a new experience. Part of her wished it was. When keeping a low profile…well, she had learned when the unexpected happened, the most practical thing was to carry on as normal. So, Hunith had gone down to the Council offices and got on with her job.

Lately, there was always one fire or another cropping up. Ever since Kara vch Rhys had started seizing control of Plaid Cymru with her populist rhetoric and nationalist sentiment, the local MPs had started getting nervous. She hadn’t gained much leverage yet, but there was a national election the following year, and the underground rumblings of a referendum had been bandied about in interoffice gossip more and more frequently.

Even their local MP for Torfaen had started asking if he could get polling on whether pushing for increasing the Welsh content in state schools, and handing out dragon flags at pressers might get him a few extra points with her ardents.

Hunith lifted a knee to support her burden as she fished for keys and let herself in.

“Oh, thank you, darling,” She said as Merlin’s handsome young friend rushed over to help her unload. Lance, she reminded herself. Merlin had always been a bit of an odd child – aside from Will, she’d never really had to keep track of all that many more friends. Merlin himself, she saw, was in sitting room with Will and Gwen, speaking softly, but otherwise didn’t seem to be getting into much trouble. 

But Arthur – Arthur was leaned against the kitchen cabinets, arms crossed and a decidedly uncomfortable look on his face.

“Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur said in a low voice.

She shot a look towards the back room before meeting Arthur’s eyes. “Hunith,” she said absently, trying to determine just what she was being confronted with. Because she _was_ being confronted. She had played this game too long to not know the signs. What mattered was determining exactly what evidence he had behind the seriousness in his tone.

“Hunith,” Arthur amended. He held up a photo, his gaze steady for a long moment before he dropped his eyes to the linoleum floor. The photo was held out to her, feeling more like an offering than an accusation. Hunith, in that moment wanted to pull the blond man into a tight hug. She knew he was struggling. He needed answers, but the part of him that had never known Igraine was looking at Hunith like a mother, not an adversary. She took the image gently.

“Who is this man?”

“You think he’s important in your current predicament?” She asked. Old habits died hard, she thought as she ran a thumb over the smiling face in her hands.

“I think he knew my mother,” Arthur said carefully. “And I think he might have information about the people who are hunting us.”

Hunith looked at Arthur, really looked. The broad set of his shoulders, the firm jaw, but also his fair hair, bluest eyes and determined spirit that reminded her so fiercely of Igraine. She’d only met the woman on a few occasions, but never failed to be impressed by her, awed by her indomitable will. 

“Hunith, please.”

“His name is Balinor,” Hunith said, smiling down at the dark eyes she had fallen in love with. “And he is Merlin’s father.”

**::**


End file.
